The crisis had been reached: the tide of frenzy was turning, had turned, was already ebbing. She felt it, was conscious that he also had become aware of it. Then his grasp slackened, grew lax, loosened, and almost spent. She ventured to unwind her limbs from his, to relax her stiffened fingers, unclasp her arms. It was over. She could scarcely stand, felt blindly for support, rested so, and slowly unclosed her eyes. "I've had to fight very hard for you," she whispered. "But I think I've won." He answered with difficulty. "Yes--if you want the dog you fought for." "It isn't what _I_ want, Kay." "All right, I guess I can face it through--after this.... But I don't know why you did it." "I do." "Do you? Don't you know I'm not a man, but a beast? And there are half a hundred million real men to replace me--to do what you and the country expect of real men." "What may be expected of them I expect of you. Kay, I've made a good fight for you, haven't I?" He turned his quenched eyes on her. "From gutter to hospital, from hospital to sanitarium, from sanitarium to ship," he said in a colourless voice. "Yes, it was--a--good--fight." "What a Calvary!" she murmured, looking at him out of clear, sorrowful eyes. "And on your knees, poor boy!" "You ought to know. You have made every station with me--on your tender bleeding knees of a girl!" He choked, turned his head swiftly; and she caught his hand. The break had come. "Oh, Kay! Kay!" she said, quivering all over, "I have done my bit and you are cured! You know it, don't you? Look at me, turn your head." She laid her slim hand flat against his tense cheek but could not turn his face. But she did not care; the palm of her hand was wet. The break had come. She drew a deep, uneven breath, let go his hand. "Now," she said, "we can understand each other at last--our minds are rational; and whether in accord or conflict they are at least in contact; and mine isn't clashing with something disordered and foreign which it can't interpret, can't approach." He said, not turning toward her: "You are kind to put it that way.... I think self-control has returned--will-power--all that.... I won't-betray you--Miss Erith." "YOU never would, Mr. McKay. But I--I've been in terror of what has been masquerading as you." "I know.... But whatever you think of such a--a man--I'll do my bit, now. I'll carry on--until the end." "I will too! I promise you." He turned his head at that and a mirthless laugh touched his wet eyes and drawn visage: "As though you had to promise anybody that you'd stick! You! You beautiful, magnificent young thing--you superb kid--" Her surprise and the swift blaze of colour in her face silenced him. After a moment, the painful red still staining his face, he muttered something about dressing.